Only at the sound of my voice does Liz look up. She shows some surprise before she pulls her glasses off her face, going from the intellectual look to the big sister look, and smiles:
"Max, you are back."
Hearing that, I can't help but roll my eyes and complain, my tone somewhat between sarcasm and speechlessness:
"Yes, I'm back. I have been back for a quarter to half an hour already."
Liz pauses, then smiles helplessly:
"I know. I heard when you came back, but you didn't come over after a while, so I returned to my book."
So it was just that! I exhale in relief.
"I thought you were so focused that you didn't pay attention to any noise in the house."
Liz looks into my relieved eyes, and smiles gently, amused but also gratified.
"Thank you for worrying about your weak and poor sister, but I didn't forget to remain aware of my surroundings. You just didn't really make yourself discreet when you came back and you went into the bathroom. I just stopped paying attention, and I didn't hear you after that."
I smile at her words, before frowning toward the end. Thinking for a moment, I look at her seriously:
"Sis, what do you say we install a complete security system in the house? We will use a discreet one in a closed loop that will keep records in a local server only accessible on site, and another one we can access from afar. What do you think?"
Liz looks at me quietly for a while, then smiles:
"Let's talk about that later. For now, tell me how it is getting a tattoo and getting your ears pierced. Are you feeling uncomfortable? The pain is not bothering you too much, does it?"
I look into the violet eyes looking at my wounded ears, and trying to look at my back where I have said I would have my tattoo drawn. Behind the veil of inquiry, I see the evasion. That makes me think back to my words, and I smile bitterly. Lack of a sense of security, persecution delusion that was not really a delusion, but more like a complex rooted in recognized and bloody facts, desire for control, deep-seated anxiety beneath a veneer of rationality, and maybe many other things I am too much of a layman to think about.
I let out a breath, my smile growing bitter for a moment, before I look up and turn to show Liz my earlobes. Liz looks at me, then focuses on my ears, touching them lightly and checking their states. The light pain that has come back a while after I got the piercings makes me wince slightly, but it only stings.
After touching my earlobes, Liz puts her book aside and pulls my t-shirt up to expose my back. The light chill of the air feels refreshing on my skin, while my dangling breasts Liz has teases for their sizes last time brushes against the bedsheet.
The dressing on the back of my shoulder is carefully torn to uncover the reddish skin below, before it it out back and pressed lightly for its edges to regain their adhesion against my skin.
"Not bad. I never thought you would ever get a tattoo. You have always liked your skin clean and flawless."
I look at Liz who had returned to leaning against the pillows between her back and the headboard, and smile bitterly. I let out an exhale and mutter, as if to myself, to her, and to the world itself:
"Even my life is not clean and flawless anymore. What does it matter if I do something I consider meaningful now?"
Liz looks at me, then smiles comfortingly:
"At least, you can still smile."
"Because I still have you."
My answer, as I look at her squarely in the eyes, makes the room silent, quiet but harmonious.
"Since the tattoo is meaningful to you, try to hold onto its meaning. No matter what happens, try not to lose yourself."
I smile, and suppress the desire to let out a headshake. Does losing myself or not really depend on me? Isn't it the world that has pushed me to the point of getting a tattoo already?
Liz suddenly speaks, pulling me out of my thoughts:
"What do you say I get a tattoo too? To cover the scars after my wounds have healed?"
I push my thoughts aside and sit up to let my t-shirt cover my torso again. I face Liz after sitting cross-legged, and look down at the side of her abdomen covered by the purple silky babydoll where she still has wounds in the midst of healing, both from the bullets that have gone in and the cuts from the scalpel. After a moment, I nod and look up at her with a wide smile:
"It will be very attractive, sis. After you have done that, we should go to the pool or even the beach to show off."
Liz pauses, then laughs at the idea:
"Right, to show off. With the appearance of us sisters, we will pull all the limelight onto ourselves. We will just have to be careful with the flies that will be attracted."
"I…"
I was about to promote my mind-reading ability, but 'Mike' image violently intruded into my mind, and I change my words:
"No need to filter them. We will simply chase them all away. Everyone will only be able to look, but no one will be able to touch."
Liz looks at me, seemingly catching on what I didn't say and why, and smiles deeply.
"Indeed, no one will touch. We don't need anyone else beside each other."
We look into each other's eyes deeply, and I feel at peace, truly needing no one else to make me content after everything that has happened. After a while, I smile, but break the silence, forcefully bringing up a subject that seems to have been long overdue, a subject I have been patient enough not to bring up too soon, and calm enough to only bring it up for the second time tonight.
I take Liz's hand into mine, and look at her firmly:
"Sis, your promise. We need to talk… I need to know."